


Life, Love, and Everything Inbetween

by Carmailo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Sex, VictUuri, not too explicit but still, yoibb17, yuri on ice big bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmailo/pseuds/Carmailo
Summary: When Viktor runs into an old childhood friend, he is desperate to introduce her to Yuuri. But in his haste, he forgets a few important things and accidentally leaves Yuuri to fret.--Warnings:Anxiety, supposed infidelity, smut (although not overly explicit).





	Life, Love, and Everything Inbetween

Viktor sighed, inspecting the nutritional value on a package of garnish. He put it back down, unsure of the specific brand or type that Yuuri had requested. He could just buy all of them… except the last time he’d done that, Yuuri had been amused. _“I’m a not chef here, Viktor, but I’m sure the one with the highest nutritional value would have done. Although, I guess I should’ve been more specific. I wasn’t sure what’s available in Russia.”_

 

Viktor had to return everything that same evening, and when he got home, Makkachin had fallen asleep in the middle of the bed, effectively taking Viktor’s spot - he liked it because he was close to both Makkachin and Yuuri at the same time.

 

Instead of looking around more, Viktor opted to begin his walk home, knowing that Makkachin and Yuuri were waiting. It was dark out as he left the store, streets lit in pools of light cast by the streetlamps above.

 

It was when he was walking between these circles of lights he first spotted her. She sat at a bus stop, tousled hair tangled in an effortless wave down the bench back.

 

Viktor watched the subject closely as he made his way down the street. He paused at the circumference of the next pool of light, hands tucked firmly in his pockets as he watched the girl. _No- she’s a woman_. He told himself.

 

_And so familiar, too…_

 

_Should I call her name?_

 

_Why am I hesitating?_

 

_Oh, right._

 

Viktor watched the woman a while longer. He was probably wrong in imagining similarities between her and the same girl from his past. But if he wasn’t… Viktor shook his head again. It didn’t matter. They couldn’t just pick up where they had left off, now could they?

 

Clearing his throat, Viktor paced past the bench. “Hey!” Viktor froze for a millisecond, one foot still poised to take a step. He pressed on, sure that call wasn’t for him. “Old man with the white hair!”

 

Viktor stopped again. He whipped around, sure that the woman, who was not Veronika, was just a brash fan. Grinning, he played out the response that had become well-known among interviewers. “Well, my fiancé says it’s…” His eyes opened and he realized the person calling him was the woman from the bench. “...platinum.”

 

Viktor’s smile fell from his face. “Fiancé, huh?” It was her- Viktor was sure it was her.

 

“Veronika?”

 

Veronika cocked her head. “Who else can say your hair is white and get away with it, Vikky?”

 

Viktor wanted to hug her. But he also wanted to walk away, share a few kind words of playful banter among old friends who’d had a falling out, before parting ways indefinitely.

 

He watched her instead, unmoving. “Viktor, come here.” She urged, rolling her eyes playfully.

 

He felt powerless to her charm, and took a single step, and then another, and another. He was running into her arms then, clutching her in a tight embrace. “It’s been so long, Vikky. How’s skating?”

 

“It really has been. Skating’s great.” Viktor paused. Didn’t Veronika keep up with any sports news at all? The tabloids were all over Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that Viktor was the most decorated male figure skater in the world.

 

“Last I saw you were dominating the Junior Grand Prix. Were you able to carry that on into your senior career?” Veronika let go of Viktor and put a hand on her hip.

 

“You haven’t been watching?” Viktor asked.

 

“Ah. Skating’s been a bit of a touchy subject for me. At least competitive-wise.” She laughed like they were sharing a joke.

 

“What do you mean?” Viktor was like a small child again, ignorant in the vibrancy and brilliance of Veronika.

 

“Right, you probably didn’t know this, but…” Veronika, paused, wringing her hands, and pointed at her right leg.

 

Viktor smiled and shrugged. “What?”

 

“Viktor. I’m missing my leg.” Veronika said.

 

“What?” He asked again, confused now. How could she be missing a leg? Veronika had always been a superior skater when it came to Viktor, and sure, she hadn’t done it competitively because of her family… but to have lost her leg?

 

“Here. Touch it. It’s polypropylene.” Veronika said, placing a slender hand on Viktor’s shoulder and lifting her leg up.

 

Tentatively, Viktor reached out and pressed the plastic-like material. “You can’t even tell through the fabric.” He noticed.

 

“The point is to be discreet.” Veronika said, pressing a finger to her lips, not unlike Viktor tended to do. He _had_ gotten the move from Veronika in the first place, after all.

 

“Want to catch up?” She asked after a beat, taking one of Viktor’s hands in both of her own.

 

“I needed to get home. And I have an early start tomorrow. Maybe over the weekend?” Viktor suggested.

 

“Yeah! That sounds great! Are you still practicing in the same rink?”

 

“Yes.” Viktor nodded.

 

“Oh! There’s the bus… I’m off, then!” Veronika called, stalking away as a bus pulled up to the stop.

 

“Alright. Wait- can you help me grocery shop?” Viktor asked. This was the sort of thing the two would have done if they’d still been friends.

 

Veronika stopped, turning to face Viktor fully. “Do you have a list?” She asked, playful charm in her smile.

 

“Yes!” Viktor replied, producing a green sheet of paper from his pocket.

 

Yuuri had scrawled everything they might need for the next little while on it in his cute printing.

 

“Come on, then.” Veronika said, already walking. Viktor ran to catch up.

 

* * *

 

 

“Viktor?”

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor replied, his keys landing in the dish they kept near the door.

 

“What took you so long?” Yuuri asked with a yawn, half-asleep on the sofa, light from the television flickering over his face.

 

“I ran into a childhood friend. I was leaving the grocery store with empty hands and then they came with me to go and buy everything because, darling, I am clueless.” Viktor explained, putting the paper bag on the island in the kitchen.

 

“Aw, that’s nice of them. Thank you for getting the groceries.” Yuuri said, yawning through his words.

 

“Mhm.” Viktor hummed, bending over the couch to plant a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead.

 

Yuuri reached up and pulled lightly on Viktor’s collar, bringing him down for a proper kiss. “Now hurry up and come to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow.” Yuuri chided, gathering the blankets around his shoulders and trailing them to the bedroom.

 

As Yuuri disappeared, Makkachin appeared, padding groggily out of the bedroom to receive Viktor. “Hi, Makkachin.” Viktor said, crouching down to pat the sleepy dog’s soft head.

 

Makkachin moved into the touch until he was nuzzling Viktor’s side. His paws patted Viktor’s legs. He was speaking in a code that the two had developed years prior. “Up we go, then.” Viktor said, scooping Makkachin up.

 

Makkachin let out a sound of happiness, legs kicking excitedly as Viktor carried him around the room. “Oh, Makka,” Viktor huffed, planting the poodle back on the ground, “you’re getting heavy, and I’m getting too old.” He chuckled.

 

Makkachin whined for a moment before shuffling off back into the bedroom. Viktor put away the groceries and was quick to follow.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yuuri, get up.”

 

“Jus’ five more minutes…” Yuuri mumbled, turning over and away.

 

“You said that twenty minutes ago, zvezda moya.” Viktor protested.

 

Yuuri rolled onto his back, blinking in the light. “What does that mean, again?”

 

“Zvezda moya?” Yuuri nodded, “my star.” Viktor explained.

 

Yuuri smiled sleepily. Viktor played with his messy hair, a gentle smirk on his face. “Adorable.” He sighed.

 

“Shush…” Yuuri said, rolling closer to Viktor, falling asleep again.

 

“Myshka, get up.” Viktor said, prodding Yuuri in the side.

 

“Fine…” Yuuri groaned, dragging out the word as he rolled to the edge of the bed.

 

Viktor watched with interest as Yuuri rolled off the bed, landing on his feet in a crouch. “What does that mean?” He asked sleepily, grabbing his glasses and wiping them on his shirt.

 

“Little mouse.”

 

“And that’s a pet name” Yuuri pushed the blue frames up his nose, blinking hard as his eyes adjusted.

 

“In Russia, yes.” Viktor and Yuuri each grabbed a corner of the sheets and made the bed together, Yuuri smoothing out wrinkles as Viktor fixed the pillows. “Now. Get ready. Yakov will _really_ be upset if we’re late again.” Viktor reminded, already headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Viktor was coaching today, so he stood off the ice, pen tapping against a clipboard as he choreographed a program. “Alright… Maybe move to the triple axel to the quad loop as a combination.”

 

“Right.” Yuuri nodded, already running the step sequence again.

 

He successfully jumped the axel, followed quickly by the loop, with a hand grazing the ice. He’d get it the next time, he was sure.

 

“My turn. You’ve been hogging the ice for an hour.” Yuri called, stepping onto the ice. He liked the rink to be empty when he practiced, so Yuuri didn’t comment on it.

 

“Then don’t be late, next time.” Yuuri called back with a laugh, already skating over to switch off with the smaller Yuri.

 

Reaching down, Yuuri wiped off the blades on his skates. “Vik-” He stopped when he spotted Viktor embracing someone he had never seen before.

 

Standing to his full height, Yuuri watched the pair in front of him release their embrace and launch into fast conversation. The woman suddenly grabbed Viktor’s face in her hands, in a seemingly intimate and familiar manner. Viktor returned the favor, reaching up to tug lightly on a few locks of dark hair.

 

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, coming to stand next to Viktor, patting his face with a towel.

 

“Ah, Yuuri, this is Veronika! She taught me how to land a quadruple flip. We were kind of like how I’m your coach!” Viktor explained, presenting Yuuri.

 

An unfair suspicion gnawed in Yuuri’s chest.

 

“Hi, I’m Yuuri.” Yuuri said, sticking out his hand for a shake.

 

Veronika took it, smiling graciously. “Veronika.” She smiled.

 

Viktor started conversing with Veronika again, and while Yuuri tried to interject and Viktor tried his best to be inclusive, Yuuri was still left feeling aloof. “Excuse me.” He mumbled a few minutes later, but the others were too caught up in conversation to notice.

 

He found himself in the locker room, ankles threatening to give out from exhaustion and building fright. It was silly, but…

 

A fear had begun to fester in Yuuri’s chest, clutching his lungs and cutting off his breath. He lost his balance on his skates and fell to his knees, clutching his shirt tightly. “Breathe. Come on, just breathe.” He reminded himself.

 

This seemed to work better when it was Mari saying it, or Phichit rubbing circles on his back.

 

Especially well when it was Viktor, hands holding Yuuri’s, rubbing patterns with his thumbs, promising that they would get through this, together.

 

At the thought, Yuuri’s hands curled into fists, moving away from his shirt and instead pressing against his thighs. Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. Anxiety was twisting quickly in the pit of his stomach, conclusions weaving out of nothing.

 

_Viktor loves you. He isn’t leaving you for that woman. What did he call you this morning? Star? My star. You’re his star. His life revolves around you. You’re his sun. No, wait, he said star… but there are plenty of stars out there._

 

And stars… they were bright, beautiful. They drew in your attention and kept you there. Yuuri wasn’t a star. He wasn’t anything near.

 

That woman… Yuuri thought she was beautiful. So what was to say that Viktor didn’t either? That he found her far more attractive than Yuuri? _It’s not that much of a feat,_ Yuuri thought, scoffing, as though Veronika had purposely tried to prove it.

 

With weak hands, Yuuri reached up and wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands. “Stop it.” He mumbled, voice thick.

 

Standing on shaky legs, he made his way to the sink and washed his face with cold water. His expression was still a crumpled, crying mess. So he wet his face again. And again. Over and over, until his furrowed brow smoothed out a bit and his frown loosened.

 

Yuuri stared at his reflection. _So stupid, crying over something that’s probably not even happening_.

 

 _So naive, overlooking something that could be more than it seems. He didn’t even mention the fiancé part when he introduced you_. Yuuri’s chin quivered.

 

 _Overanalyzing_. He thought, trying to keep his chin up, even as more tears fell from his eyes.

 

 _Maybe crying will make me feel better._ Yuuri thought, wiping forcefully at his face.

 

But he didn’t want to be caught. The last thing Yuuri wanted was Georgi walking in as he sobbed. As insightful and grounded as the man could be, he was also sometimes a bit of a drama-queen who regarded love as a painful concept. Besides, he was intimidating to Yuuri in a weird way.

 

So, Yuuri kicked off his skates and traded them for his runners, pulled on his jacket, and left the rink without caring if anyone noticed. _The only person I want to notice is too busy with some random woman_.

 

Yuuri slammed straight into Mila’s back. She was talking rapidly on her phone in Russian, the sounds heavy on her tongue. She turned around, unbothered. Her mouth fell open at the sight of Yuuri and her brow furrowed. Yuuri forced a smile, and Mila, who didn’t buy it, smiled softly in return. She knew better than to ask the dreaded _“are you okay?”_ , because Yuuri most definitely was not. Mila patted his shoulder as he passed her.

 

Yuuri shoved the door open. The cool winter air hit his face with conviction, already calming his anxiety. Bouncing in a place a few times, Yuuri started running. While his heart refused to beat fast from exertion, it was still pounding hard against his ribs with panic, demanding to be known. Yuuri pushed harder, feet barely connecting with the ground before he continued to propel forward.

 

_Nothing. It’s nothing. There’s nothing going on there. Viktor loves you._

 

Or did he?

 

Neither had ever confessed those three words, but Yuuri thought it was safe to say that it was true. Because it was on the tip of Yuuri’s tongue whenever he looked at Viktor. At the forefront of his mind when he caught sight of a sleeping Viktor. His every thought when Viktor smiled. Something he whispered in his mind once, just to see how it felt.

 

Yuuri was sure he was in love with Viktor. Or, he liked to think he was.

 

But that didn’t mean Viktor felt the same.

 

Yuuri’s ankle twisted on uneven pavement and he fell to the ground, hands coming up to take the blow from the ragged concrete. His knee still connected with heavy force, body twisting and his right cheek scraping on the ground.

 

He lay crumpled there for a minute, listening to the sounds of wildlife and city around him. No one seemed to be around… where was he, exactly?

 

Yuuri rolled onto his back. The early afternoon sun was blinding against a blue sky. Blinking hard, Yuuri pushed himself up. He surveyed his surroundings, recognising a few things. Struggling to his feet on freshly-injured palms, Yuuri started walking the way he’d come, to the rink.

 

And then he changed his mind, and headed home, instead.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yurio, where’s Yuuri?” Viktor asked, pinching the younger boy’s jacket and tugging.

 

“He went to the locker room, I think.” Yuri shrugged, twisting away. Normally, he’d curse at the other Russian. But Yuuri had been gone for a while, and now Yuri was starting to get worried.

 

“If you see him, tell him Veronika and I are going to grab a coffee.” Viktor said, waving.

 

“Wait- aren’t you going to tell him yourself?” Yuri asked, incredulous.

 

“I’ll check the locker room. If he’s not there, he’ll probably ask you where I am, and you can tell him.”

 

Yuri scoffed. Despite the fact he’d never admit it, he really did care for the other Yuuri. His disappearance was not reassuring. What if he was having a panic attack? Yuri knew how Yuuri bottled everything up - or at least tried to. “How fucking irresponsible are you?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Viktor asked, pausing in place and turning to face Yuri, incredulous.

 

“You don’t even know where he is! What kind of a boyfriend doesn’t know that kind of thing?” Yuri exclaimed, slamming his water bottle down.

 

“I’m not a stalker, Yurio. Yuuri’s perfectly capable of running his own life, any- ”

 

“And I’m not saying that, idiot! You know how worked up he gets, you know better than I do! Why aren’t you more concerned?” Yuri exclaimed, stomping his skate against the ice.

 

“What could’ve possibly happened?” Viktor asked, raising a brow in question.

 

“I-I don’t know! Maybe it has something to do with Veronika! He’s anxious around strangers. And you seem sort of close with her, I don’t know, maybe he feels uneasy or something?” Yuri tried not to show just how concerned he’d become.

 

“You’re imagining things, Yurio. You’ll tell him if you see him, thanks.” Viktor said. He was convinced Yuuri was fine. There was nothing to worry about for a while. No competitions, and Yuuri liked to talk about how he felt often. Viktor knew his fiancé in and out, so who was Yuri, a mere observer, to say that something was wrong?

 

“Yeah, I will. I’ll also tell him he’s supposedly getting married to a loser who doesn’t give a fuck.”

 

“That’s enough, Yurio.” Viktor called back, already disappearing through the doors.

 

“Jerk.” Yuri called back, voice echoing off the walls of the rink. “And that’s _not_ my name!” He yelled.

 

Furiously taking another swig of water, Yuri started practicing again.

 

* * *

 

 

When Viktor got home that night, it was to the smell of food.

 

Something elaborate, nothing like what Yuuri usually attempted to cook. That was his first tip-off.

 

“Yuuri?”

 

“In here!” Yuuri called back, the sound of bubbling following his voice.

 

“What’re you up to, darling?” Viktor asked, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat.

 

“Cooking.” Yuuri’s words were uncharacteristically curt.

 

“Is something…” Viktor trailed off, catching a whiff of whatever Yuuri was making. “That smells good, Yuuri.”

 

“Really?” Yuuri asked, turning halfway as Viktor entered the kitchen.

 

Normally, Yuuri would lean closer for a kiss, shoot Viktor a smile, but there was hesitance in his stance, a pause that made the tension in the air painfully clear. And it was due to this strain between them that Viktor did not hug Yuuri when he came closer; did not press a kiss to the top of his head or smear some ingredient across his cheek.

 

“Hey,” Viktor started lightly, coming to stand beside Yuuri, feeling the few unusual inches between them as though they were miles, “is everything okay?” Viktor brushed his hip lightly against Yuuri’s.

 

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Yuuri asked, glancing at Viktor with a questioning look. He seemed far too focused on stirring the pink liquid in the pot in front of him.

 

“I dunno,” Viktor began, “you seem kind of… I don’t know, distant.”

 

Yuuri’s movements slowed and then came to a stop. “I… _Me?”_ He asked incredulously, “ _I’m_ -” He broke off suddenly, staring back down at the pot and stirring again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… sorry.”

 

“No, no, you don’t have to apologise, just… do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Viktor asked slowly, cringing at the pauses between one another’s dialogues.

 

“I don’t have anything to tell.” Yuuri replied, turning away from the stove to grab a handful of shredded cabbage. He dropped it into the pot.

 

With the way Yuuri moved, one would never have guessed that the only dish he could successfully make was katsudon.

 

After a long pause, Viktor forced his tongue to work again. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.” Yuuri said shortly, sending Viktor’s brow into a furrow and lips into a tight frown.

 

Yuuri was being difficult, he knew, but he also knew how insignificant his problem with Veronika was, in the long run. She was just an old friend of Viktor’s, someone Yuuri shouldn’t suspect of swaying Viktor to the betrayal of Yuuri.

 

So instead of making it a big deal, Yuuri would keep it to himself, because it was nothing; Viktor wasn’t going to suddenly start liking women instead of men, and he definitely wouldn’t keep it from Yuuri if that was how he felt.

 

That made sense, right?

 

And that was all true, right?

 

Besides, Viktor had told Yuuri many times that he’d do anything for him, would never leave him. Why couldn’t Yuuri get over his anxiety and just believe him, trust him?

 

“Oh… okay.” Viktor replied hesitantly.

 

He hovered awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself. “Uh, Viktor, could you move?” Yuuri asked tentatively.

 

“Ah- sorry.” Viktor mumbled, stepping out of Yuuri’s way.

 

“It’s alright.” Yuuri replied, grabbing a knife.

 

They fell silent again as Yuuri chopped up some beets, Viktor realizing what he was making. “Borscht?”

 

“Yep,” Yuuri replied, switching to another beet, “I wanted to try making something special… for you.” Yuuri mumbled, blushing.

 

“It’s among some of my favourite dishes.” Viktor smiled, hiding a wince at the formality of his words. “Ah, could I help in any way?”

 

“No.” Yuuri said quickly, “I-I mean, I’d like to try this on my own.”

 

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Viktor replied nonchalantly, attempting to mask the hurt in his voice.

 

In the quiet that followed, both men took the time to assess the situation.

 

To Viktor, Yuuri was upset about something, seemingly connected to Viktor. But he was cooking, _for Viktor_ , so the theory was essentially invalid. Or was it? He was confused. Very, very confused.

 

To Yuuri, Viktor hadn’t figured out what had happened, but he was catching on that something was wrong, and quickly so.

 

“I’m sorry for-” Yuuri began, just as Viktor cut in with, “Yuuri, what-”

 

“You first.” Viktor urged, reaching over to help cut up the remaining beet.

 

“I-” Yuuri paused. “I’m sorry I seem, uh, distant. I’m not trying to, I swear. I’m just… distracted? I guess that's the word. So much going on, you know how it is.” He explained, carefully measuring out other ingredients and adding them to the pot.

 

_Lies._

 

“Oh. Oh! That's great. Not great, but I thought I’d done something. For which I was going to apologize profusely and beg for your forgiveness.” Viktor said, giving a tentative smile.

 

Yuuri returned the gesture with a shyness, lips twitching up at the corners, the slightest of dimples on his cheeks.

 

Now the silence held significantly less tension, the strain between the two almost completely dissipated.

 

But still, ever present beneath the surface.

 

“Can… can I kiss you, then?” Viktor asked slowly, feeling like a small child as he bounced his index fingers against together.

 

Yuuri let out a laugh, one that almost sounded relieved, before nodding. “Of course.”

 

He put down the dish he’d been holding and turned to face Viktor. They both moved closer, Yuuri slinging his arms around Viktor’s neck, uncertainty in his movements, but trying to project confidence. Viktor’s arms wound their way around the familiar curve of Yuuri’s waist, pulling their bodies against one another. “I missed you today, myshka.” Viktor murmured softly, pressing a light kiss to Yuuri’s temples.

 

“I missed you, too, darling.” Yuuri replied, tilting his face upward for a kiss. Viktor was more than happy to oblige, pressing a slow kiss to Yuuri’s lips, hands lightly tracing the smaller man’s spine.

 

When they pulled apart, Yuuri regarded Viktor with guarded adoration, to which the taller looked away from.

 

He was often good at hiding it, although he also did not think he deserved the other’s affection or attention. And he didn’t like the _fear_ in Yuuri’s eyes, as though Viktor would slip away without a second thought.

 

He wouldn’t, didn’t Yuuri know that?

 

Yuuri, oblivious to Viktor’s train of thought, pulled away after far too short a time, giving Viktor yet another hint that there was something else Yuuri was hiding.

 

“Yuuri, please tell me what’s wrong.” Viktor said, coming to stand behind Yuuri.

 

His fingers pulled a few unruly locks of hair away from Yuuri’s face. Viktor pressed a kiss to the twist in Yuuri’s hair, a tiny patch of pale scalp where his hair turned in his own natural flow, with no need for a proper part. Yuuri, for the most part, seemed to miss the gentle words and soft caress.

 

“Huh?” He asked softly, wandering away from Viktor to add even more colored ingredients to the mixture.

 

“Why are you being like this?” He asked, hurt and confusion turning his voice to something akin to anger, but more gentle and reserved, a frustration saved for only the people Viktor wished not to hurt.

 

“Like what?” Yuuri retorted, placing a ceramic dish on the counter before stirring the pot’s contents again.

 

“Like _this!_ What’s wrong, Yuuri? You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

 

And suddenly it was too much, too little time, oh _god,_ he was running out of time, he needed to get this off his chest, needed to tell Viktor he saw what was going on, that he wasn’t that stupid, before it was _too late, and it’s going to come out badly, oh god, please, I don’t want to ruin things, what do I say, what do I_ do-

 

“I’m not hiding anything!” Yuuri slammed the lid down on the pot.

 

Viktor watched Yuuri with measured emotions.

 

Yuuri did not like that. He valued honesty. He did not like hiding thoughts, feelings- _oh_.

 

“Fine.” Viktor said, the air chilled with a sudden iciness. “I’m going to take Makkachin for a walk. I-... nevermind.”

 

Yuuri refused to watch as Viktor left the kitchen, heading off with Makkachin.

 

_What have I done?_

 

The situation came crashing down on Yuuri.

 

He hadn't meant for that to happen.

 

_Oh, no._

 

Tears sprung at his eyes. And then they slipped quietly down his cheeks as he bit his fist, teeth finding familiar places to settle as sobs threatened to rip from his throat. He was mad at himself, now.

 

His free fist slammed onto the counter, a loud thunk breaking through the room. With the small piece of him that wasn’t dissolving in hysteria, he checked to make sure he hadn’t broken anything, because _goddamn, that hurt!_

 

It didn’t seem like it, but the skin was bright red around his third and fourth knuckles, throbbing painfully.

 

Whole body shaking now, Yuuri sunk to the ground, holding his hurt hand against his chest. The hand came out of his mouth and his head fell forwards, resting on his knees. Initial anxiety subsiding slightly, Yuuri forced himself to breathe.

 

He sat there, wide-eyed and trying not to hyperventilate, until he could hear the borscht bubbling, smell it burning, and then a little while longer, before he forced himself up to turn off the stove and check to see if the soup was still edible.

 

Yuuri ate a spoonful. He couldn’t tell if it was alright or not. He’d had the dish only a few times with Yuri, and the dark color, more brown now than red, was not promising. He pushed it aside and cleaned up the mess he’d accidentally made.

 

Washing his hands with a deep frown and watery eyes, Yuuri wondered why he was so reluctant to bring up Veronika. Maybe he didn’t want to know in case something _was_ going on. Maybe, deep down, he knew that there wasn’t anything going on.

 

Yuuri wiped his hands on a towel, forming a resolution. He sat down on the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around himself. He wished Viktor would be back soon. Then he would tell Viktor everything, and Viktor wouldn’t say Yuuri was silly or stupid or paranoid, but instead that the only person for him was Yuuri. And Yuuri would hug Viktor and tell him that he loved him so that he could say it whenever he wanted and Viktor would squeeze Yuuri tightly and tell Yuuri that he loved him, too, and they’d hug, and kiss, and spend the evening holding each other, and looking through wedding magazines and laughing at things they thought were funny and circling things they liked with Viktor’s sparkly gold pen and Makkachin would _wuff_ softly when Yuuri pet his head-

 

Keys jangled in the lock and Yuuri stood up, wringing his fingers tightly as Viktor stepped into the apartment, an oblivious Makkachin bounding right up to Yuuri and dropping to his back in request for stomach scratches. Yuuri apologized mentally to the poodle, instead watching Viktor nervously. “V-Viktor?” He asked.

 

Viktor finished taking off his boots. “Yuuri, I don’t like fighting with you.”

 

Just like that, Yuuri was standing in Viktor’s arms, holding onto him tightly as he fought more tears. “I’m sorry.” Yuuri replied, voice muffled by Viktor’s thick jacket.

 

“No, no. It’s alright. I shouldn’t have been so pushy.” Viktor mumbled, lips pressed against Yuuri’s head, arms tight around his waist.

 

“I wasn’t being very fair. It’s just-” Yuuri broke off, pausing to take a breath as an excuse for the sudden fear in his chest; Viktor would be upset that Yuuri would assume infidelity so quickly. Or that Yuuri had gotten so easily jealous. “It’s been a long day, my anxiety-” _half-truth_.

 

“Shh, Yuuri, it’s okay. I’m here now, I’ve got you.” Viktor replied, pulling back enough so that Yuuri could see his smile.

 

And the lump that had blocked Yuuri’s throat came undone as tears washed down his cheeks again. “Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor said, holding Yuuri close again.

 

Yuuri let himself listen to Viktor’s heartbeat a minute, overcome with need to prove his love to Viktor, show him that whatever Veronika was offering, he’d give more. “Vi-Viktor-” Yuuri began, pulling back and pressing onto his toes to push his lips against Viktor’s.

 

It was irrational.

 

Yuuri knew it was.

 

Viktor, taken by surprise, wasted no time in responding, because he cherished and loved each of Katsuki Yuuri’s kisses. No, wrong, he cherished and loved everything happy that Katsuki Yuuri did. No, he cherished and loved Katsuki- “come with me?” Yuuri asked, nervously tugging on Viktor’s hand.

 

Fighting a grin, Viktor nodded, following Yuuri to the bedroom- no, now it was _their_ bedroom, and that thought filled Viktor with a giddy joy.

 

Yuuri tugged Viktor into the room, pushed the door shut and pressed himself up against it, determination written across his face. “Yuuri?” Viktor asked, confused.

 

Where were they going from here?

 

“I…” Yuuri struggled for words. There weren’t the right ones in english, so he reached out towards Viktor, who happily obliged, coming forward and loosely holding Yuuri around his waist. Yuuri, as much as he wished to savour the moment, pressed onwards, brushing another kiss against Viktor’s lips.

 

Viktor chased Yuuri as he pulled back, but was stopped as his sweater and shirt were tugged off his body in a single move. He almost commented on it, but didn’t, because it didn’t want to make Yuuri blush and pull away, even though it was adorable.

 

Lips found themselves on Viktor’s again, cool hands sliding up his torso. “Well, this is hardly fair.” Viktor mumbled, tugging on the hem of Yuuri’s shirt.

 

With only the slightest of reluctances, Yuuri pulled his own shirt off, discarding it on the floor with Viktor’s.

 

Yuuri and Viktor had… _done_ things, to an extent. They’d passed all the bases, but lingered on returning to “home base” with the final act of sex. Yuuri had always been hesitant, and Viktor never seemed to want to push any further than what Yuuri was comfortable with.

 

Perhaps Yuuri would regret this later, giving up his virginity in exchange for more time with Viktor, maybe he would look back on this tiny yet monumental event in his life years down the road with children in his and Viktor’s home and think of just how foolish he was.

 

“Yuuri-” A kiss cut Viktor off.

 

Yuuri didn’t want to talk. Hearing Viktor’s voice made the lump in his throat shift heavily. So he distracted Viktor, pulling at his clothes until there was only air between the two of them, pushed at Viktor until they both fell onto the bed, scrambling for touch, for feel. Yuuri’s glasses disappeared somewhere along the way.

 

“Yuuri-” Viktor tried again, but Yuuri made his words fall short with a leg pressed against between his legs, applying the most maddeningly light of pressures.

 

“Yuuri- Yuuri, you have to list-” Yuuri’s hands were roaming with a determination that almost made Viktor want to stop trying to get Yuuri’s attention.

 

“Yuuri!” Viktor said, grasping Yuuri’s thin wrists in his own.

 

Yuuri’s eyes snapped up to Viktor’s face, eyes wide and looking like he’d been caught in the act of something unkind. “Talk to me.” Viktor insisted, hands sliding up Yuuri’s arms to pause just below his shoulders.

 

Yuuri’s chin trembled. “Yuuri…” Viktor’s brow furrowed, hands letting go of Yuuri’s arms and settling on his sides, sliding around his ribcage to pull him forward.

 

Yuuri curled up on top of Viktor, head right above his heartbeat, accelerated with worry. A whimper escaped Yuuri’s lips. “Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor mumbled, carding his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, brushing it back in a comforting motion. His free hand held Yuuri’s face, thumb grazing his cheek.

 

Tears slid onto Viktor’s chest. “I’m sorry.” Yuuri said, voice thick with emotion.

 

“Yuuri, you’ve nothing to apologise for.” Viktor insisted, holding Yuuri by his torso and shifting them so that they sat up, Yuuri straddling Viktor’s thighs, head buried into the crook of his neck.

 

“I tried- I thought-”

 

“Yuuri, it’s alright.” Viktor said, lightly coaxing Yuuri’s face away from his body to watch his eyes. “I don’t ever want to see you cry. I wish,” Viktor caught a thick tear with the swipe of a thumb, “that I could take all your sadness,” he pressed a light kiss to Yuuri’s temple, “and throw it all away.”

 

Yuuri seemed to cry harder, watching his finger draw patterns over Viktor’s collarbone. “I knew- the whole time-” a choked noise, caught in his throat, cut his words away.

 

“Take your time, zvezda moya,” Viktor cooed softly, tucking hair behind Yuuri’s ear, trying to push all of it back so he could those brown eyes he loved oh-so-much better. Viktor wished there was happiness in them instead of sadness and fear.

 

“Viktor- I-” Yuuri broke off suddenly again, a sob chopping his words short as his eyes darted back up to make contact with Viktor’s.

 

“I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you anymore, and I need you to know that, because I might never say if I don’t now, and I want you to know and I need you to know before it’s too late to tell you-”

 

“I love you.” Viktor said, trying not to cry as he watched Yuuri’s brow trembled and his smile, remnants of sadness tainting it, pressing himself tightly against Viktor. “I couldn’t do anything without you- everything I do is for you. I don’t even want to think of something like that.”

 

His eyes closed as he lay his chin atop Yuuri’s head, smile breaking out across his lips. A soft laugh passed his lips. “You beat me to it.”

 

It was quiet at first, but then Yuuri was laughing, too. A bubbly sound, breaking from his lips and shaking his body with happiness. He pulled back to look at Viktor, grabbing his face in his hands. “I love you.”

 

“ _I_ love _you!_ ” Viktor exclaimed, hands finding their way to Yuuri’s soft cheeks, “Yuuri?”

 

His seriousness softened Yuuri’s smile, and as much as Viktor loved the wide, childlike joy of Yuuri’s uncensored smile, this smaller, more absent-minded one was one of his favourites. “Yes?”

 

“Please never leave me.”

 

Yuuri was quiet. Gone was the smile, replaced instead with a wobbly frown. “I promise,” Yuuri held Viktor’s hands between his own, “to never leave you.”

 

Yuuri looked up from their hands, a small smile playing across his lips. “You’re crying.”

 

“I’ll never leave you, either!” Viktor burst, letting go of Yuuri and hugging him tightly around his body, pinning his arms to his side.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me, Yuuri. It’s because I love you. And I always will.” Viktor whispered, words slow and loving in Yuuri’s ear.

 

“I’ll always love you, too.” Yuuri responded, clutching Viktor tighter.

 

They stayed there awhile, half-in, half-out of the covers, holding each other in comfortable silence.

 

It was when Viktor realized just _where_ Yuuri sat that he shifted. “Ah, Yuuri, not to ruin the moment, but perhaps we should get dressed for bed?”

 

Yuuri blushed deeply, realizing just why Viktor had made the suggestion. But Yuuri was filled with a sudden confidence, smiling sweetly at Viktor as he felt the heat shift away from his cheeks. “Get dressed?” He wondered innocently, arms settling over Viktor’s shoulders as he shifted so he was looking down at Viktor.

 

“Ah- Yuuri…” Viktor warned, fighting a smile as Yuuri moved again, reminding Viktor of just how close they were. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

 

“Doing what?” Yuuri asked, lips _almost_ ghosting across Viktor’s mouth.

 

“You tease…” Viktor muttered, watching as Yuuri pulled his face back.

 

“But I’m _your_ tease.” Yuuri winked. Viktor didn’t think Yuuri realized just what that did to him.

 

“And you’re also my boyfriend.” Viktor pressed a kiss against the base of Yuuri’s neck, “and my fiancé…” Agonizingly slow, Viktor stamped small kisses over Yuuri’s neck, smiling when small sounds came from his lips.

 

“I love you.” Yuuri mumbled, taking Viktor’s face in his hands as he reached Yuuri’s chin.

 

“I love you, too.” Viktor replied, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

 

Yuuri smiled gently, revelling in the tender moment. “Are we doing this, then?” He asked, a grin breaking the smile.

 

“Do you want to?” Viktor said, fighting his own grin, “because I’m awfully tired…”

 

“Oh, come on.” Yuuri laughed, pushing Viktor’s hair out of his face, “I’m tired too…” Yuuri smirked, running his hands down Viktor’s side.

 

Viktor broke into his laughs, rolling over so that Yuuri was below him. All amusement ceased, though, as Viktor leaned forward to press a long kiss to Yuuri’s lips. “Are you ready?” He murmured, lips trailing over Yuuri’s collarbone, breath hot.

 

“Yes.” Yuuri nodded, hair becoming even messier around his head.

 

His determination melted, however, when he felt fingers press against him, tentative in their movements. “Good?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed out, trying not to squirm too much.

 

And he lost himself, in those few moments, forgot just what happened except Viktor was doing it and it was _good_ , and Yuuri didn’t mind at all since it was Viktor.

 

And then the hand moved away. But as soon as the contact had disappeared, it was back, only different, because now Yuuri knew it wasn’t Viktor’s fingers but something else, something-

 

_Oh._

 

“Yuuri? Is this alright?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri murmured, trying to keep his voice steady.

 

He wondered how many times Viktor had done this with other people, wondered how many other people Viktor had loved, how many like this, how many men and how many women had he left after showing them _this_ \- “None.”

 

 _Did I say that out loud?_ “Oh.” Yuuri said, too lost in what was happening to process the response, unaware that Viktor had only gone here, to this different and unique place, with Yuuri.

 

Yuuri’s not sure how long it lasted, Viktor’s voice, deep and rumbling above him, his own throat releasing noises that he’d been embarrassed about under different circumstances, the friction, the movement- and then Viktor grasped Yuuri’s hand, the one with the ring on it, right or left, Yuuri didn’t know, didn’t care right then, because it was there, there as Viktor and Yuuri finished, there as Viktor collapsed next to Yuuri, there as he kissed Yuuri and folded him into his arms.

 

That ring meant so much more to Yuuri than just the promise of a marriage. It was a never-ending loop, promising forever, promising life, and love, and everything in between. “I love you.” Viktor whispered, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s head.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

When they woke up the next day, regretting not cleaning up and deciding to skip practice, Viktor asked Yuuri if he felt better. “Better.” Yuuri nodded against Viktor’s shoulder, tightening his grip on the larger man’s waist.

 

“Yuuri?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“Can I ask what happened?” Viktor said cautiously, brushing Yuuri’s hair with his fingers, wrist bent awkwardly to reach.

 

Yuuri sighed, nestling closer to Viktor. “I- I convinced myself of something. And I was wrong, but I was so _sure_ at the time… Don’t laugh,” Yuuri mumbled, burying his face into Viktor’s side.

 

Viktor tightened his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “I would never, dearest.”

 

“I… it’s not her fault, but I was paranoid about Veronika.” Yuuri whispered, voice gentle against the quiet of the room, the softness of late morning sunshine taking the edge from Viktor’s sharp features.

 

Yuuri reached up and brushed hair away from Viktor’s eye. “I… I just got kinda scared, and you know I can get really upset-” Viktor gripped Yuuri in a hug.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said, fierce against the shell of Yuuri’s ear, regret and realization permeating his words.

 

“It’s not your fault-”

 

“I should’ve-”

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri pulled back, prompting Viktor to do the same, “it’s not your fault. Not entirely, at least.”

 

Yuuri shifted so he was propped up, looking down at Viktor. “I never asked what she meant to you, how you knew her, any of it. I _doubted_ you, in the worst way possible, and the fact that you can look at me and apologise- I jumped to conclusions, and that isn’t fair at all. So for those reasons, _I_ am sorry. All that you can take for your fault is that you didn’t really tell me who she was. But I never gave you a chance to explain.”

 

Viktor was quiet, watching Yuuri. His hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing a light line across his soft cheekbone. There was quiet for a few minutes, then, silence broken only by the affectionate looks each man shared. “She was an old friend of mine. Sort of like how Yuuko is to you. She inspired me, got me started on skating. Veronika… she was a legend, to me. Would’ve gone really far competitively. She had a tough home situation, so she would sometimes spend nights, or weeks, at my house. I was convinced I loved her after years of being such close friends, so I not-so-subtly dropped some hints. She told me she didn’t feel the same, and we grew distant before ceasing conversation all together. I ran into her a few nights ago, when I went to buy groceries. We hadn’t spoken in nearly fifteen years… I wanted to catch up… but, as a result, I ended up ignoring the world’s most important person.”

 

“Thank you.” Yuuri murmured.

 

“For what? I haven’t done anything.”

 

“For being here, with me. For your honesty. For loving me. Thank you.”

 

“Yuuri?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Please don’t ever thank me for that again.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Yuuri, right?” Veronika was suddenly in front of Yuuri, waving enthusiastically as he tied on his skates.

 

“Veronika! It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Yuuri beamed.

 

“Oh, you’re so adorable- Viktor! Yuuri’s so cute!” Veronika called to Viktor, who was practicing quads.

 

“I know!” he called back, gracefully landing a quadruple salchow.

 

“Yuuri, dear, I must apologize.” Veronika held up a hand as a protest bubbled in Yuuri’s throat. “I didn’t make my intentions clear from the beginning. But, to be fair, that moron Viktor didn’t tell me _you_ are his fiancé.” She earned a laugh from Yuuri.

 

Her fingers traced the side of his face, “you make him so happy. He watches you with such adoration, as though he doesn’t understand how he became so lucky. And I see it reflected in your eyes, when you see him move, the way you two pine and wish you _knew_ just what you had done to win such a prize… you are perfect for our Viktor. You make him so, so happy.”

 

Yuuri smiled sheepishly, standing to his full height, barely taller than Veronika. She wrapped him in a hug. “If anyone, I’d try to steal you.” Veronika winked as she pulled away, “but you are loyal to my childish Viktor.”

 

Yuuri understood then, saw it in the way Veronika said _my Viktor_ , that she saw him as a younger brother, because he recognized the soft smile, the pride written over her face when you mentioned Viktor. He’d seen the same expressions across Mari’s face many times before.

 

“Oh, and Yuuri?” Veronika paused, turning from where she had been heading away, “yes?”

 

“Welcome to the family.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun working on this project! My partner was rachel-beltran-art on Tumblr, go check her out, she's amazing!  
> Something like two months (?) of work later, I produced this finished fic. (my friends keep teasing me for writing smut lmao)


End file.
